


Rattled Bones

by damnfancyscotch



Series: Whimsy & Confusion [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But With A Scotchy Twist, Gen, Pre-Banshee, Pretty Much Season 2, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnfancyscotch/pseuds/damnfancyscotch
Summary: proph·et - /ˈpräfət/ noun





	

**Author's Note:**

> FYI:  
> Poetry is from [this](http://modernaukeats.tumblr.com/post/128656220362/dictionary-poem-iii-by-keaton-michael-gildedmouths) beautiful prose by Keaton St. James. I am so in love with his work and this has been one of my favorites for a long time.
> 
> :D

  

>  proph·et - /ˈpräfət/  _noun_

 

Lydia presses her hand to her mouth, pulling back to see sharp crimson there, mixed with the  _Posh Princess_ pink of her lipstick. She subtly looks around and hopes that no one's noticed that she's bleeding again. She licks her lips and gets as much of it swiped away as best she can.

She raises her hand and asks primly. "May I be excused?"

Harris rolls his eyes and gestures toward the door.

She stares at herself in the warped bathroom mirror and sees a flickering light around her eyes.

She squeezes them shut for a long time, long past the point of  _painful_ and when she opens them again, they're the regular green, a little blood-shot, a little watery, but no longer glowing. 

  

> _it’s not just bloody mouth and shaking hands. it’s not just stomach aches or dripping sweat or burning with fever from heaven’s glow. you found another pile of dead locusts on the back porch, their small bodies glistening in the silver moonlight. you blacked out and woke up standing naked in the river again, your arms covered with ballpoint runes and all the rocks painted with hosanna, hosanna in your own blood. you kissed a boy, he had nightmares about cities falling into the sea for weeks._

 

Lydia was normal once, or at least she thinks she was.

But that was before she was attacked by a mountain lion during Winter Formal, before she disappeared from the hospital and was found days later, completely naked with no memory as to how or why she was there.

That was before she kissed Stiles Stilinski on a whim - _because he was there and spoke kindly to her and seemed to give a damn about her response_ \- and now he flinches every time he sees her and Lydia feels like she can hear the screams in his head, see the horrors he's dreamed.

It's better that he stays away. He is bright and strong, but she realizes that she could break him so easily. She continues to drown herself in Jackson because he's so bored, barely there, and that's what she needs.

God forbid anyone actually pays attention.

  

> _when you were little you liked to dream about meeting an angel, their soft white tunic, their soft eyes, their soft molten gold halo. but michael has wings made of barbed wire and a halo of starfire and his lightning-strike voice makes cracks in your bedroom mirror every time he visits._

 

Lydia's mother wakes her from dreams of red-eyed monsters with exclamations over bloody sheets and she has no idea what to say. She doesn't even recognize herself when she looks into the mirror, a blank-eyed girl staring back, multiplied by the shattered silver surface.

She encounters a boy that speaks in a soft voice, with blue eyes that shine with delight and sarcasm when she snaps at him and demands that he leave her alone. He tells her she's cute and she rolls her eyes.

It shouldn't intrigue her - _it's creepy and he should take no for an answer_ \- but... she's curious...

Evidently, he's her neighbor and he appears when she least expects it, leaves her tokens of flowers and bits of song, and she can ignore the way that no one else seems to know who she's talking about because she feels quietly desired for the first time.

But everything is destroyed as she finds herself leaning against the burned and bloody side of Peter Hale as he strokes her hair and tells her that she is his salvation, tells her all about his family and how she'll be the one to help him be whole again.

She feels emptiness ring within her as she closes her eyes and claws press against her skin, even though she knows  _she knows_ he's not really there.

Not yet, anyway.

  

> _they call you proclaimer. god’s holiness lives deep inside you like a sword in the gut. yours are rattled bones._

 

Lydia lifts her head and sees a man curled on the floor of the Hale house, spine bowed in agony, arm caught in a gaping hole in the floorboards. 

She steps closer and looks down at Peter, his twisted face covered with burns and his claws buried in the man's arm.

He grins gruesomely up at her and says, "I heard there was a party."

Her hands are covered with purple powder and blood and she drops to her knees. She screams, trying to cast out the vibrations of her rattled bones, trying to drown out the shouting that rings in her ears.

It's never quiet in her head again after that.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI this is one of my favorite fics.
> 
> kisskiss  
> ♡ Scotch


End file.
